In This Love
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: Carlisle Cullen's life as a vampire began violently, with an attack in a dark street. His later quest, first to end, then to better, his new life as an immortal, is one made of despair, loneliness, and a faith that could overcome the darkest of natures.


**Author's Note: Ah, joy everlasting! Another chapter to a story that I started many months ago entitled "In Hac Caritate." I have decided to post this story under its English name, "In This Love." Technically, "In Hac Caritate" was a prelude to this one, due to regulations set by the staff. This is the second chapter to the tale. If you want to read the first chapter, or the Prelude, you'll have to go to my old profile, the link to which I posted on my new profile. Confusing, I know, and I apologize. ;) **

** I would like everyone to know that this story requires a lot more thought than my other works, so it won't be updated very frequently. I intend to finish it, however, and I intend to finish it well. **

**Hang in there with me, please! Thank you!**

2. Lamia Venator

Outside they waited for me.

In the stillness of the graveyard beside our church, fourteen men waited, their breath cooling on the midnight air. Although I had told them emphatically that the horrid things weren't needed, every one of them clutched a thick and pointed dowel in one hand and the tools for a torch in the other. The crosses hanging from their necks moved in the biting wind. The largest of the men, a blacksmith by the name of Henry, separated from the main group to greet me. "Carlisle."

"Henry," I said, nodding at him. I prayed he couldn't see the raw fear eating away at the edges of my mind. Of the men assembled, I was the youngest, and yet I had been elected as leader of the hunt. "We're all assembled, then?"

"For a good quarter of the hour we've been assembled," said one of the oldest men, scowling.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," I said, although I was not in the least regretful. The longer I could extend this period of waiting, the better. "I was making last petitions to God for our hunt."

"Well, we're all here now," continued Henry, slapping me resoundingly on the shoulder. "Let's begin our hunt!"

A hush more profound than death stole over us, and we glanced at one another edgily. I knew the others were waiting for me to set out, the leader of our bloody conquest. "Let's begin," I whispered, and took three steps toward the gate to the cemetary. The others pressed at my back as I paused. Three steps I had taken toward an act of faith that, once completed, would alter me forever. Tonight I would kill beings that could think and feel for themslves. Even if these creatures had no souls, even if they were evil, could I kill one and not expect it to taint my own soul?

"Carlisle," whispered the same impatient man, Smithson, "are we going to waste the midnight hour with starts and stops? What's your reluctance?"

"Nothing," I answered reflexively. Quashing the hesitancy deep within me, I strode out boldly toward the end of the graveyard and swung the gate silently open, beckoning the others through. Startled, they complied, pouring into the little patch of grass beyond the church. "We will begin in the back streets," I said, my breath carrying in puffs through the air. "They should come from the sewer opening. Do not strike until I give the word. I shall be always in the center of our radius, in the middle street. I shall be the primary bait for our enemies. Do you understand?"

They murmured their assent. I noticed Henry watching me with a strange look in his eyes, as if he could sense my fear. He placed his hand once again on my shoulder. "I could take center street, if you like," he said.

I felt a powerful warmth flood through me, but I shook my head at him all the same. "Your kindness touches me, Henry, but this is the place my father would have me."

"You aren't old enough to bear the heaviest load," Henry argued, even as we spread out in our agreed formation. "Your father does not want you hurt, I know this. Let me take center street, just this once."

"No, Henry," I said firmly, though my hands still shook. "I will do this the way my father wishes."

With a sigh, Henry nodded and faded back into the darkness of the London streets. Our portion of the town was small, secluded from most. This is why the creatures had chosen to haunt our houses and steal our children; our part of London was sheltered from most of the adamant priests and hunters. Somehow, these fiends of the night had not seen my father in his prime, when he had rampaged among our streets and driven out many of the men and women he considered servants of the devil. Perhaps, I reasoned, these creatures were wise enough to know my father had never truly killed any of their kind.

"Where shall the others meet us?" I asked Henry quietly, as we stalked down the narrow lanes. I had arranged for other men to meet us as soon as we caught sight of the creatures.

"Close to the new playhouse," he said. "But I doubt their courage, Carlisle. They believe you truly have found the creatures this time."

I swallowed. "I have."

We walked on in silence, and it seemed I could hear my heart hammering inside me, betraying my fear and skiddishness. I clenched the crucifix tight to my chest and dropped the wooden stake behind me. When Smithson gave me a questioning look I said, "We do not need those tools. They can't help us with these fiends."

Smithson frowned. "But we've taken these with us always--"

"I know, but with these creatures..." I trailed off, my mouth dry. I had just glimpsed a flash of deepest black to my right. Deepest black, with palest white set into it. I put a finger to my lips, urging the others to be quiet. Had I seen my prey so quickly into the hunt? We were scarcely past the middle of our small corner of London, and it was only an hour past midnight at most. Surely the creatures would not risk stealing into the heart of our neighborhood?

But again I saw the swirl of black, the stirring in the shadows. I did not, however, give any sign to my fellow hunters that I had seen anything. These creatures were cunning, and I would not risk letting them slip away should they notice my attentiveness. So I kept my even pace, even though my feet yearned to pick up pace. My knuckles turned white about the crucifix as I crushed it into my palm, its hard edge cutting into me. A shallow pain stung me on my hand. I looked down. The crucifix had indeed cut my palm, leaving a thin line on my skin. I touched the small cut to my mouth.

"Carlisle!" Henry hissed beside me. "I think I saw--"

"Shhhh," I hissed back. "Say nothing, Henry." I did not want the creatures to hear.

He obeyed, watching me. I let the crucifix fall back to my chest, and it bounced gently as I picked up my pace.

We were reaching the end of our hunt. Ahead of me I could see the ghostly outline of the new playhouse, built only several weeks past. Its rickety wooden exterior struck me as strangely eerie in the light of the moon. My father had strongly protested the construction of a theater so close to his parish, but no one had listened to him; the people had been wanting a playhouse for many months, and no one priest could stop the progress of London.

I could also see, bathed in the light of their own torches, the great mob awaiting us and our prey standing by the theater. Nearly every man in the neighborhood had come to drive out the creatures. In my heart, I shrank at the thought of leading all these people to the denizens of night. What if, God forbid it, what if none of us survived? Was that a suitable price to the Lord for the expulsion of his enemies?

We came to join the mob, jogging to our places. Once again my elders and betters fell away, leaving me the foremost place in the fray. Several of the oldest men patted me on the back as they gathered me to them. "I have seen one of the creatures," I said softly, but it seemed everyone could hear. My face was awash in the light of the tall torches. "I must ask you not to make noise as we hunt. The creatures hear better than any man and shall know we pursue them."

The mob nodded in unison, their eyes promising murder. "We do as the priest's son says," whispered Dervsih, a man of forty years and highly respected in our neighborhood. "We hunger to kill these demons."

I did not tell them, as I turned to resume the hunt, that I doubted any of us could kill the monsters.

"Take a light, lad," said Jack, another elder, offering me one of his pitch torches.

I mutely shook my head and held up my flint and tinder. "This is all I shall need."

"Aye, that and the Lord's protection," murmured Henry, crossing himself.

Again, I saw a flash of black in the darkness, glinting past the playhouse. "Follow me!" I whispered, and darted off. The mob did follow, their numerous feet making a fierce patting noise on the street.

The streets of London so far from the center of importance were poorly lit, which threw everything into shadow. I squinted against the black, searching for the creature I knew I had seen. The shutters of homes were shut tight against us as we ran through town. I could not see again the white and black of my enemy, but it seemed I could feel his presence. I had felt this presence--malevolence and malice, ill-intent--while I had slunk about at night during my observations. These creatures carried with them the essence of evil.

Suddeny I slammed to a halt, my heart jumping to my throat. The others stopped behind me and drew together. I heard the shuffling, sliding noise I had come to know so well.

One of the creatures had either emerged or retreated to the sewers.

I waved my hand excitedly, ushering my followers to veer to the left, where I knew the opening to their hideout lay. Now that the moment was upon me, now that I knew what I must do, a tide of eagerness washed through me. I wanted to find these creatures and prove myself to my father. Was it not that which I had been working toward for so many weeks?

"Circle this ditch," I commanded, my lips barely moving. Henry passed the message along to the others. They all leaned forward, torches blazing, shining down into the murky sewer. My nose burned with the stink of the open ditch, but my eyes were fixed on the sluggish waters. "Step back a pace," I said. They complied, pulling their lights away from the sewer. I stepped back as well and crouched down to the street.

For beats and beats of my heart we waited. No one made a sound but for the faint echoes of our breath. I watched the ditch, praying that I had not imagined the creature shifting in the darkness. I knew this to be their entrance into our part of London, so a creature was bound to arise from the dark muck soon. Midnight had come and gone--this was their time to scour our streets. One of them was bound to emerge--

And then, in a burst of foul sewage and marble-pale skin, a creature shot from the ditch. He landed hunched on the street, his wild eyes raking over me in devilish ire. I felt my skin crawl over me like roaches. Snarling ferociously, the creature cried in a thin voice, "Operor non existo!" and tore past me.

With a shout between triumph and terror, I pursued the creature. Behind me, the mob roared its bloodlust. My prey was in sight, and my blood pounded hot in my ears. I forgot myself as I raced after the creature. No speed could suit this chase but a mad frenzy, and I sprinted, pushing my body to keep the creature in sight, to corner him and burn him where he stood. My father would then be proud of me, if I could only accomplish this one act of faith.

"Dont lose him, Carlisle!" shouted Smithson, panting. "Run, boy, run!"

I needed no urging: I was flying, as fast as I could. Only the youngest of the mob kept pace with me. I thanked my father for the work he had set to me in the summer which had given me strength, for it rewarded me now. The creature was merely a blur to my eyes, but I was keeping him in sight. He did not know where he was going, for he was running into an alley which ended in a wall. These creatures had inhuman skill, but I could hurl a torch at him before he could scale the high brick barrier. _I shall not lose you_, I told him in my mind. _I shall not lose you. You are my redemption!_

It almost appeared as if he heard me.

The creature turned as he flew into the alley and faced me. His face was a thing from a morality play, the face of a fallen angel. His skin was white and papery, his eyes gleaming red. I saw nothing but death in those eyes, and I hurtled toward him, unable to stop. I had to rid the earth of one of these evils, if just one! I could not fail my father.

All I saw was the streak of scarlet which were its eyes as the creature rushed toward me.

And then I felt his teeth tear into me, and I sucked in breath as agony rushed through me. I heard the horrified mob howling behind me, but I could feel only the pain. I spun about, flung by the creature to the hard ground as he tore at me, my face, my arms, my neck. My own blood was thrown into my eyes, forcing me to shut them against the horror of my attacker. Then, at last, my throat found itself, and I screamed, throwing up my arm to shield my face. "God, have mercy!"

The creature hissed in my ear and pounced away. "Carlisle!" I heard someone scream, but I could not answer, my body wracked with terrible trembling. I could not control my spasms. Through my blood-blinded eyes I saw a blur of white, a man in the mob falling away, his throat torn out. Then another collective shriek from the mob as a second man fell. There was an awful wailing as a third man was lifted by the creature and dragged away down the street. The mob lost all sense and ran after him, their cries like hellhounds in my ears.

Still I shook violently, fire burning me to the bone. I screamed again, giving voice to my agony. I sought to master my shaking, but I could not, and blood surrounded me, filling my eyes and my mouth. Weakly, I turned over and coughed out blood. My eyes dimmed; I fought to remain awake, but I was losing.

"Where is your stake?" a voice said near me. "Let's finish it--I can watch him no longer--"

"No! He's alive!"

I coughed again, dribbling blood running down my face. "He's dying, Henry!" the voice said brokenly. "You know what we must do."

"Carlisle, Carlisle!" I could not answer him, I did not even know who was speaking.

"Henry, finish it!"

"The minister's son, Jack! We cannot! We daren't!'

"We _must_! Else we'll burn him when he returns from the grave!"

Without knowledge of the motion, I rolled over. Fire burned through me and made moving a torment, but I dug my fingers into the street and began to crawl. I had realized what these voices said. I could not remain bleeding on the ground, where they could kill me. I must escape, escape...

_Father_.


End file.
